Thirty poems in thirty days: DAY 22


There is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow
only broken hearts and scattered dreams

And these days, I wade through bloody streams
of what seems to be nothing more than promises
shattered like pieces of glass bottles that litter the streets
after the latest barroom brawl
I've been pleading for generations to the ones who rule the nations
won't they just stop
for a second
recollect their memories of what used to be
and passionate hopes
for life yet to be
they remember, see?
but memories fade in time like fingerprints
and with the wind are blown to the four corners of earth
polluting people's realism all over the world
casting new light on old flames, raising women from girls
and warriors from sons
but remember how these fantasies only exist in our thoughts?
Remember you not where you stood when Martin Luther King Jr. was shot
for daring to dream?

The wicked ones will always wage wars through their wandering schemes
content to break lockets and toss molotov cocktails into the gears of machines
Manifesting evil desires and a penchant for fire to extinguish the hope
of all those who dare to see
that the scene these days is dreary
and the soldiers, they are weary
no longer do lost lovers share tongue secrets by light of the moon's beams
nor mothers stitch care into their children's pockets bloody seam by bloody seam
no longer do broken spirits hear the call to become warriors and queens, no

these days mankind survives and strives only to find
that there is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow
only broken hearts and scattered dreams.

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